Page 52 of The Mafia’s Girlfriend

More of the same sort of uniformed men surrounded us, and I marked the position of every one of them. They’d nearly succeeded in blocking me in a corner, but I could slip out the other hallway if I had to.

I liked to live my life on the edge of danger, but I wasn’t so stupid to think I could take on all six of these fuckers on my own. Okay, five and a half. That cocky bastard in the neck brace didn’t really count.

“Who do you fight for, man?” Orsen asked.

No one tried to step in front of him, and the fact that they all deferred to him told me that he was a man in charge, to some degree of authority.

I stayed where I was and kept my face blank.

I had to be careful with what I said. If they asked me that in any other circumstance, like, if we were at a location where matches were held, I’d answer. But this was different. I kicked his ass in an unsanctioned fight in the alley. Things were already off-kilter between us. While his question could’ve been a business one, this felt personal.

These men were from a bigger outfit. I suspected one of the quarreling mafia families, but wouldn’t Jimmy explain that? Wouldn’t he have the balls to be decent and inform me about this shit?

If these guys were affiliated with the Marchese mafia, which was my first guess based on a few familiar faces I saw here from the fighting circuits, this was some serious shit. The Marcheses were no joke. The cartel was worse, but I didn’t care to have any mafia meathead singling me out as an enemy.

Besides, I didn’t know what to say. Jimmy was my manager, but he never identified who he worked for. He’d come up to me as a sole operator, interested in me as a fluke. Ben and his lackeys mentioned some Sean man, and the name did seem familiar, but I never saw the guy at fights. He was more of a figure from when I started training under Jimmy’s say-so.

The fact remained that I knew next to nothing about Jimmy. Who he was associated with, who he’d want me to avoid or align with.

“Cat got your tongue?” one of the other men teased when I didn’t reply.

I’d let my silence be an answer, but they didn’t walk away.

“You think you can take me on again?” Orsen taunted, lifting his chin higher in a gesture of cockiness.

I raised my brows, letting him decipher my expression. I know I could.

“What about Ferris?” he asked.

The other men with him nodded and laughed, like it was some hilarious joke to challenge me with the mention of a fighter even higher up in the ranks.

Now I had my answer. Ferris was clearly sponsored and represented by the Marchese family. I knew who I was dealing with. I was in deeper shit to have attacked a Marchese fighter the way I had, but it was too late to take that back. I wouldn’t take it back anyway. I was in deep enough that I’d always stand up to protect Emma.

But what the fuck is she doing messing with the damn Marcheses?

“What do you say, Sawyer?” Orsen taunted.

Just as I’d suspected, the fucker knew my name. It wouldn’t have been hard for them to figure it out. People knew me in the fighting arena.

This shit was getting deeper. Too deep. I wasn’t sure what to commit to, even as a reply right here and now. I got the sense that they were expecting me to back down from a bigger fight, but that challenge was exactly what I’d wanted. I’d been thinking about how to have Ben get me arranged in a preliminary fight to go against Ferris at the end of the summer. The bastard didn’t fight often, so it would be a big deal. And a big deal meant more money. Money I wanted to provide for my mom.

I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t affiliated with anyone other than Jimmy. I wasn’t officially repped or sponsored by any gang, club, family, or organization. Whatever I said in a reply now—backing down or accepting this challenge—would lead to more complications later, and I couldn’t determine who to trust or rely on. I always wanted to remain an independent fighter, a solo man in this illegal sport, but that wasn’t how these things worked.

It wasn’t how they worked when I wanted to dip into the waters of fighting for good money.

“What do you say?” Orsen repeated.

I settled on silence. Keeping my mouth shut was imperative. Maintaining a level glare on him, I cut through the small crowd of them and shouldered through them.

I walked away, putting a big pause on that conversation I hadn’t wanted in the first place.

Where they fuck are you? I focused on finding her. On finding them. While Orsen locked me in that conversation and revealed that I was getting mixed up with the Marchese family, I’d lost tabs on Emma.

I had to find her. And we had to locate Krista.

“Bingo.” I had. Opening a door to a shabby guestroom down in the basement, I found the woman curled up on a couch.

“Krista?”